


Anger Management

by bluetilo



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dubious Consent, Kidnapping, M/M, Prostitution, Public Sex, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 19:33:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetilo/pseuds/bluetilo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bane sets John free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in response to TDKR kink meme prompts. Betaed by amazing omletlove.

_My inner demons compel me to be here_  
 _You're consumed with rage but I'm consumed with you_  
\- Anger Management, Lovage

“Come on, man. I've been coming to this diner ever since it was just a burger joint in Oldtown. Curtis and I go way back,” John Blake argued, exasperated, to the bartender. Everybody knew him at that place!

“Yeah, and you know what else goes way back? Your tab. Get lost, Blake.” She continued to rub a filthy towel over a dish, but halfway through it she stopped and rolled her eyes at him. “Look, Curtis himself told us to get you nothing until you’ve settled your debt. In fact, he felt very inclined to kicking your ass, but I talked him out of it. So show me some gratitude and beat it, OK?”

Staring at her, John pulled a couple of wrinkled bills of his pocket and threw them over the counter.

“Tell Curtis he can have his damned money.”

Out on the streets, John pulled his faded jacket around himself. Wasting money on his ego was a bad call; those were his last cents. His rent was long overdue and he had been hiding from the landlord for the past three weeks.

What was he going to do? Snatching wallets again was risky and had an awful paycheck.

On the way back to his place, John saw Ross, one of his next door neighbors, coming down the stairs. John usually avoided saying “hi” because he knew exactly where Ross went late at night dressed like that.

Ross had tried talking him into the “job” dozens of times before John finally accepted it. He had been always disgusted by the idea of standing on a sidewalk waiting for nasty men to pick him up. Every time he came back home at the first rays of sun, with a few hundred dollars in his back pocket and a sore ass, he cried angry tears and swore that was the last time. But it was in moments such as this, when he was hungry and about to be thrown out the shithole he lived in, that he stopped by Ross and awkwardly said hello. Hustling alone was way too dangerous.

“Hey Ross. What’s up? Where you headed?”

“Just a party,” he answered, in an excited mysterious way that clearly expected John to ask more.

“Yeah? What kind of party?”

“You wouldn’t wanna know.”

“Yeah, I do.” John bit the bait.

“OK, I’ll tell you,” Ross agreed too quickly. “It’s hosted by one of my clients, but not an ordinary client. He’s filthy rich. He and his friends pay top dollar to boys like us to entertain them.”

I am not like you, John wanted to say, but didn’t. “How much money?” he asked instead.

“A lot of money.” Ross smirked. “If this was an ordinary client, I’d invite you, but this time I don’t think you’d fit. Some of Daggett’s business are not exactly legal and I don’t trust you.”

“What? You think I’m a snitch?”

“No. I just don’t want you minding other people’s shit.”

“I mind my own shit, Ross. You know it.”

Ross seemed to take that in consideration.

“Fine. I’ll take you with me, but once we get there you’re on your own. If you fuck it up, I don’t know you.”

John was about to say he wasn’t asking to go, but he bit his tongue. If the host was so damn rich, maybe John would make enough money to quit hustling for a month or so?

***

It turned out Daggett was as unpleasant as he was rich. Arrogant, self-centered, he walked around the party demanding service, yelling at people, pinching bottoms both male and female and overall being a dick.

At least there were canapés and tequila. There was coke and meth too, but John didn’t do that stuff. It was bad enough that he occasionally fucked strangers for money. Turning into a meth whore would be sinking too deep.

Ross was nowhere to be seen, just like he warned. John was unsure how to initiate these things alone. When he was standing on the sidewalk next to Ross, all he had to do was wait. Someone would pull over, they’d negotiate, and John would get in the car to do what had to be done. Right now, he couldn’t handle the competition. If he drank, he would probably find it easier to make his move on someone, so that's what he did. His mouth was bitter and he felt lightheaded by the time Daggett came towards him.

“Oh, you’re new! What’s your name, kid?” Daggett crowded him, one hand sliding over his waist.

John tried to get the offending hand off, but Daggett wouldn’t let go.

“I know every rent boy worth knowing in this city. You’re way too pretty to have gotten off my radar.” Daggett’s hand became more daring, touching the small of his back just above his jeans.

“I’m not a rent boy,” John said mindlessly.

“No? Then why are you here?” Irritation increased in his tone.

John knew how potential clients expected him to act. Somehow tonight he failed to act accordingly.

“Don’t act so coy. We all know what boys like you come to do in parties hosted by people such as me.” Daggett pressed the heel of his hand over John’s crotch, while his sticky tongue attempted to lick his earlobe. It was all happening too fast.

John felt such intense surge of revulsion that he no chance of stopping his drunk reaction. His elbow found the way to Daggett’s nose. Blood gushed freely, Daggett shrieked. The music stopped and everyone stared at them.

“Oh, we’ve got ourselves a hothead over here!” The whiteness of Daggett’s collar shirt was colored with red as he tried to stop the blood flow. “Let’s see how long the attitude lasts.”

John had barely seen Daggett snapping his fingers to his bodyguards before he felt a hard blow to his cheek shake the drunkenness out of him. Another punch to his stomach made him want to puke.

I’m going to be beaten up so badly, John thought.

Daggett signed his bodyguards to stop.

“Now let’s see about that rent boy thing.”

The two gorillas held him down, kneeling on the floor with his arms back.

Daggett unbuttoned his trousers and unzipped, pulling out his half hard prick, merely inches from John’s face. Repulsion came back much stronger. Daggett had the persistent nauseating odor of something expensive. Yet he managed to smell unwashed.

He would bite it off. They would kill him, but he would bite it off.

There was no need. They were interrupted by the loud sound of doors opening and the heavier sound of steps.

“That’s an interesting view.” Someone with a low guttural voice said it behind him.

Daggett’s figure became a mix of outrage and fright.

“Bane… What are you doing here?”

John would find bizarrely comic the way Daggett tried to gather his composure with his now flaccid penis hanging out of his pants, but at the moment he was too fearful of his own fate.

“I wish to discuss business now that the mines are no longer an issue.” Even the way the man breathed sounded menacing. “Not only have your lackeys tried to block my way inside, but I come in to find you in a nest of putrescence.”

Only then Daggett had the common sense to tuck his penis away.

“I have already paid you, Bane.” Daggett’s voice sounded on the verge of screaming.

“What you gave me was simply a means to reach the end you envisioned.” The man approached in slow steps of his heavy boots.

When he finally stood next to them, his enormous frame blocked Daggett completely from John’s sight. Bane was huge and wore a coat that added thickness to his frame.

“What you are going to give me now is a token of your appreciation.”

Daggett closed his eyes and swallowed audibly. His next words sounded like he was coaxing them out of his throat.

“I’ll transfer the amount to a designated bank account.”

“Good. And if you don’t, I’ll always know where to find you.”

Daggett didn’t answer. His chin was trembling.

Bane turned around so John could see him. A dark mask covered a bit of his skull and a large portion of his face, over mouth and nose. It resembled the kind of muzzle people would put on a violent dog. It made the man look mad. He was bald, with intent, clear eyes and a great brow. Then Bane did the unexpected. He took John by the arm and dragged him alongside.

“What the hell are you doing?” Daggett found his courage again.

“The money you’ll give me is simply payment. This-- ” And he shook John’s arm for emphasis. “-- is the token of your appreciation.”

John’s heart beat like a hammer as he followed Bane out of the mansion.

***

“What is your name, my boy?”

“John. Blake,” John panted, scared. What were they doing inside the sewers? Who were all those people carrying guns and patrolling the tunnels? John had never seen anything like it.

“Mr. Blake,” said Bane, flexing his fingers.

It was pretty hot down there and he had taken off his coat, vest and shirt. John had noticed Bane was incredibly built, but seeing him shirtless took it to a different level. Sweat flowed like a river down his spine, the shape of his muscles were designed intricately and he looked like he could tear the world apart with his bare hands.

“Mr. Blake,” he repeated. “Care to enlighten me why and how you ended up kneeling in front of such a parody of a man as Daggett?”

John’s words seemed stuck in his throat. He felt as if the wrong line would get him killed.

“I was hungry, I… I had rent to pay and things just… Got out of control.”

Bane’s minions watched their interaction and made John feel even more nervous.

“So you were hungry? Desperate to put something inside your mouth. So desperate you went straight to Daggett’s dick?”

“No, that’s a mistake. A big mistake,” John gasped. “If you’d let me explain--”

“I am very good at breaking people,” Bane cut him off, his voice loud and filled with a crazy assurance. “But when I break you… it will be your pleasure.”

John imagined his heart would burst through his ribcage at any moment.

His arms were loose, but he had no reaction when Bane came nearer. He didn’t move, mesmerized by the other man. He just looked up timidly searching Bane’s furious eyes.

Something stirred inside John’s gut when Bane found the slit of his own trousers. He popped the buttons open with slow motions. There was no underwear in sight. Thick, skilled fingers pulled out an enormous uncut cock. Bane wasn’t even hard.

A masculine smell invaded John’s nostrils. Bane translated manhood with his scent. John couldn’t control the watering in his mouth. When Bane touched him with the head of his cock, John parted his lips without being told to.

It was warm and heavy against his tongue. Once inside, Bane’s cock hardened immediately. It already felt and looked big enough soft, and when hard it owned John’s mouth, stretching his lips, and touching the back of his throat. John felt something tight at the base of his spine when he notice Bane had less than half of his cock inside his mouth.

“You may suck it now, pet.”

John closed his eyes; keeping them open made him more self-conscious of Bane’s underlings staring at them, unmoving. With eyes closed, tough, he became much more aware of the saltiness on his tongue.

Saliva was beginning to pool inside his mouth, so he swallowed, sucking softly on Bane in the process. He gave another try, between sucking motions and just bobbing his head, trying to set a pace.

A large hand patted him on his left cheek.

“Use your hands,” Bane commanded.

John concentrated on Bane, peeking through half shut eyelids as he reached out with both hands, gripping uncertainly the base of his dick and fondling his tight round balls with the other. Softness, however, seemed to be annoying Bane. His hand felt as large as a lion’s paw when it covered John’s fingers on his cock, and he applied about the same pressure John enjoyed being stroked with. He refused to think of this monster touching him because it made him hot in every wrong way.

John licked at the tip, and tried to swallow everything he could. Bane guided his motions, making him pump the part of his cock he was unable to engulf. John felt stiff, frozen, under the gaze of all the men. If all Bane wanted was a blowjob, why do it in front of all those people?

When the first slap hit the side of his face, John knew. It wasn’t about sex. It was power, sheer force, pure and simple. The slaps he was then constantly given were hard enough to burn, madden, but not to actually hurt. Bane’s hips began undulating.

Bane held him by the neck with a powerful hand. He was being face fucked. It made him absurdly hard. The humiliation of every slap, the impossible heat inside the sewers, the massive cock threatening to choke him… It all burned wrath in his gut, but it also made him want to pull his dick out and jerk off in time with the thrusting in his throat. But he had no wish of degrading himself further by getting off while sucking dick like some cockhungry slut.

His jaw ached, sweat poured into his eyes and stung, but John resisted. Bane’s hand on his neck made him resist.

John thought Bane would make him swallow. He was bracing himself as he waited for the heady, viscous come. When he was close, Bane pulled out.

“Open your eyes. You have to see it.”

John obeyed. Bane stroked his cock in rapid movements, frowning in concentration. John couldn’t help but blinking when the first streak of come hit his cheek. And then his lips, his chin, a bit on his neck and across his nose.

John was rooted on the spot. Bane exhaled heavily a couple of times before tucking his cock back inside his pants. He then smacked his large palm on John’s face one more time, rubbing spilled spunk over him until his face was a greater mess than it was before.

John had been marked. He wouldn’t—he couldn’t—forget Bane’s smell and the smell of his come even if he lived a hundred years.


	2. Chapter 2

_Our eyes intertwine through the haze_  
 _Intoxicated by your bloodshot stare_  
\- Anger Management, Lovage

John was ultimately angry at Bane. Men such as him thought they knew everything about men like John. Except John never met anyone quite like Bane before. He inspired fear, obedience, but also arousal, even if John hated acknowledging it.

His jaw ached and his tonsils felt sore from the previous assault. He could still feel Bane’s cock inside his mouth, moving, pulsating.

All kinds of outcomes passed through John’s mind, but he still couldn’t figure why Bane had decided to keep him. He wasn’t naïve, he had heard the stories. A young prostitute was kidnapped. He or she got raped, tortured while some rich sadistic freak got all the gore on tape, until the unlucky whore was dismembered and dumped somewhere. However, Bane didn’t strike him as a mindless cruel man, even though he forced himself on John the previous night.

Looking at Bane gave John the impression he operated according to an elaborate plan John couldn’t wrap his mind around. He refused to be at Bane’s mercy just like that, he wasn’t anybody’s bitch. If Bane wanted a living plaything, he should have another think coming.

Oddly, under other circumstances, John wouldn’t resist fucking Bane. He made John’s heart feel two sizes too big just by talking to him. However, there was a pungent sense of guilt in being attracted to his own abuser.

John was unsure of where he was. He knew he was still underground and that he was locked in a room. It looked like a deactivated boiler room. Whatever it was, it looked pretty old. He was given a stained but comfortable mattress, and a water basin. The room was dimly lit by an poorly-done electrical installation ready to fall apart.

There was no sign of food and John was still hungry. He knocked on the door, yelled, but no one came.

John’s stomach was composing songs with its grunts when he had a visitor at last. Of course it was Bane.

“Did our accommodations provide you a good night of sleep?”

John wanted to slap the sarcasm out of him.

“Yes, just marvelous.”

“Great. You stuffed your face so much with my cock yesterday I was wondering if you’d have room for breakfast.”

Humiliation and fire rose up in him. He wanted to spit a spiteful retort, but he just pressed his lips together.

“You do want breakfast, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he admitted. His diet would more likely include moldy bread and dirty water, but starving was a worse alternative.

“Then come with me.”

John was led through tunnels and corridors until they ended up in the same room from the previous day. A big table occupied its center; a banquet was served. Croissants, juice, hot chocolate, ham, eggs, cheese, half a dozen types of fruits, lemon pie… Damn, lemon pie was John’s favorite. What the hell?

“Hungry?”

John gave him a sideways glance. His mouth watered again; not as badly as it did when he was about to suck Bane, but it was close. He looked at the table served in front of him and frowned. Was it some kind of trick?

“No need to be polite, John. Help yourself.”

John sat on a chair and tried to keep his manners. He took a slice of fruit cake and dipped his fork on it, taking a small portion. It tasted heavenly, five star cuisine. He took another bite and then filled his cup generously with hot chocolate.

“I said you don’t need to be polite.”

John evaluated that for a couple of seconds, before he grabbed one of the croissants. He ripped a large bit of it with his teeth, and washed it down with chocolate, almost burning his tongue in the process. A sip of orange juice cooled it down and he served himself a piece of pie.

Bane sat next to him, observing his feast with expectant eyes. He took an apple, a green deliciously looking apple, and extended it to him. “And the apples? One of those next?”

Bane’s eyes looked as if he was hungry too. Something felt extremely out of place and John dropped the half eaten croissant on his plate.

“It’s poisoned,” he said.

Bane burst into laughter, a laughter that did not reach his eyes, but made his cheeks look contorted behind his mask. The mask made John afflicted.

“There is no need of poisoning you, John Blake.”

“Then release me.” John knew he must look pitiful, pleading like that. “You’ll never see me again, I guarantee it.”

“I always found it strange that people will use hunger as an excuse for anything,” Bane lectured, as if he didn’t hear John’s offer. “Men and woman corrupt themselves, soil their souls, and they excuse themselves stating they did what was necessary to appease their hunger.”

John didn’t dare to blink.

“People overestimate their hunger, and they are mistaken. Hunger, and soothing said hunger, does not define the man. I do not eat, and do you think that makes me less of a man?”

John disliked Bane’s judgmental tone.

“You don’t eat because you can’t. You have that hideous mask over your face, covering God knows what. If you didn’t, you’d be as hungry as the rest of us.”

“I didn’t eat long before I wore the mask. And it didn’t make me weak, it didn’t make me whore myself to decadent wealthy oppressors.”

John attempted clumsily to make a swing at Bane, whom blocked his fist away with unbelievable strength and speed.

“It’s up to you, John, to decide what kind of person you are going to be.”

“Is that why you made me blow you in front of all your thugs? Because you care about my moral code?” John’s blood boiled within his temples.

“Is that what you think it was?” Bane sounded disappointed. “A frivolous sex exchange? No, John. Eventually you’ll learn all the great things I did and will do for you. You’ll thank me.”

By the time Bane left him alone with the opulent food table, John wasn’t hungry anymore. In fact, he was nauseated.

***

John lay down for hours. Underground, he didn’t know what time it was, nor how much time had passed. He guessed it should be night by now, but he couldn’t tell.

Bane was self-centered, and he thought he knew everything about John’s life, but it wasn’t true. He wasn’t weak, John tried convincing himself of this, but he kept wondering why then he let himself be maneuvered into things he loathed himself for doing.

Bane had said the blowjob hadn’t been about sex. Said he was going to do great things for John. Shame rose within him, because he had every possible reason to hate the strange man who kidnapped him. Bane looked violent, crazy, was bigger than any man John had ever seen. John should be terrified; he willed himself to be frightened, angry, and revolted. However, his feeling of rage and fear got clouded by the remembrance of Bane’s musky scent, which occasionally tortured John with an aching erection he didn’t yield into stroking.

“How did you become a prostitute?”

Bane’s voice startled him. The man was heavy but knew how to lurk in the shadows.

“Didn’t you figure it already, mister know-it-all?”

“Unlike others, who are so ready to condemn you, I am here to offer you a different view on your life." He sounded honestly interested.

John was compelled to claim he didn’t care about what Bane thought of him, but that would be lying. John had no idea why a madman’s opinion had such abrupt and strange influence over him. Bane made him confront his own feelings and life choices. John wasn’t happy with the results.

He was quiet for a while before he began.

“My mother died when I was a small, in a car accident. I don’t really remember it.” Talking to Bane about this was unexpected. But he might as well be dead the next day, so he took his chances. “But… my dad got shot a couple years later ‘cause of a gambling debt. And I remember that one just fine. Not a lot of people know what it feels like to be angry, in your bones.” Something told him Bane he knew exactly what being angry was like. Maybe that was what got John motivated to keep talking. “I mean, they understand, foster parents, everybody understands, for a while. Then they want the angry little kid to do something he knows he can't do, move on. So after a while they stop understanding. They send the angry kid to a boys home. I figured it out too late. You gotta learn to hide the anger, practice smiling in the mirror. It's like putting on a mask.” And all of a sudden he felt strangely related to Bane, like he was connected to Bane’s anger through his mask.

“Keep going.”

“I did what most boys do when they reach the age of sixteen. I fled from the orphanage. I stole, I sold drugs, I lived in the crappiest places with the stupidest people. And when stuff got really shitty, when I was really desperate, I…” John bit his own tongue. No matter how he explained it, it would always sound unjustified. “This guy I know has taken a spot on a sidewalk in Oldtown. Sometimes I went with him. It’s a way out when I’m especially broke and especially hungry. One thing led to another and I ended up at Daggett’s party.”

It sounded idiotic even when he said it.

“I listen to your story, and I see you misguide the true responsible for your misfortune. You talk about your life like it is all plain adversities, as if no one is to blame. You ignore the mischief powerful people have been feeding you.”

“Who am I to blame? The ‘corrupt’?” John almost rolled his eyes. “Aren’t you as corrupt as them, making me your boy toy?”

Bane’s eyes betrayed slight offense.

“How did you feel when Daggett had you kneeling in front of him? Did you feel empowered? Did you feel in possession of your destiny? Did you feel the same way when you knelt in front of me?”

“You made me. There’s no difference.”

“Made you, you say? Think again, John. Did I tell you to open your mouth and suck me in? Did I threaten you? Did I hit you or placed a gun over your head? Did any of those men standing there were violent to you?”

John bit his tongue again, incapable of arguing.

“Would you run if you were to do it again?”

John’s heart raced to the possibility. He chose not to answer.

“Let’s try and see then.”

Bane stood a couple steps back. Slowly, he removed his vest, letting it fall to the dirty floor under him. John sat by the mattress, completely absorbed. Bane removed his black shirt, exposing his large chest. John was sure his heart was beating loud enough for the other man to hear. His eyes followed Bane’s fingers as he unlaced his boots and kicked them out along with his socks. It was amazing how he managed to seem so at ease while undressing, like his moves were choreographed. He soon unbuttoned his pants and it let it join his other garments.

John bit his lower lip when he saw Bane’s cock in full display, the slit poking through the foreskin. His balls seemed so heavy and big John imagined one of them would be enough to fill his mouth. He wanted to bury his nose in Bane’s pubic hair.

John didn’t recall standing up. His mind caught up with his body only when he was already with his lips locked in the juncture of Bane’s neck and collarbone. He licked the sweat that pooled there and followed the trail to Bane’s right nipple. He dragged his flat tongue over the dark pink nub and Bane hummed over him.

“I knew you couldn’t wait to taste me again.”

John couldn’t contradict Bane’s confidence. His own cock was so hard it hurt inside his pants.

“That’s why it saddens me to break it to you. We’re doing things my way.”

Bane pushed John away, his hands tearing the thin fabric of John’s shirt.

“What the--” he yelped, but then his pants and briefs were violently stripped from him, Bane’s hands rough over his body.

He was stark naked in seconds, lying on his back over the mattress with Bane’s huge form crushing him. Their cocks were smashed together, and it created maddening friction on John’s exposed glans. He placed his palms over the wall that was Bane’s chest, trying to push him away, at the same time he spread his legs and crossed them over Bane’s waist. Even his body couldn’t figure out what to want.

“Eager, are we?”

John hated how arousing Bane’s derisive tone sounded.

Bane slid one hand between them and one of his fingers touched John’s pucker, never breeching, just teasing, stroking, and rubbing. John’s gut clenched with the thought, he is going to fuck me.

“Fuck me.” Only then he realized the last bit of his thoughts had turned into a plea.

“Oh, yeah, I will, boy. But first I need to open you up nice for me.” Bane put two fingers in front of his mouth. “Suck it, and get it really slick because spit is the only lube you’re getting.”

John moaned with fearful anticipation. Bane’s was enormous and it’d be hard enough to take it all well lubricated. Imagining himself bottoming with only spittle as lubricant was the wrong side of madness. Bane seemed to have no problem with madness as he shoved two fingers inside his mouth. John’s saliva was thick around Bane’s digits as he did his best to keep them moist.

Bane played with his lips, stretching them, caressing them, hands strangely soft for a man as big as him.

His index finger returned to John’s asshole. His chest was tight as he held his breath.

“Relax and breathe. You don’t want this to be any more painful than it has to be.”

Bane’s finger entered him slowly, non-stopping. He let out a crescent wail that only stopped when Bane’s index was buried to the hilt. Then he only sobbed and whined, his hips undulating softly to the intrusion.

Bane sat back over his legs and used both his hands on John. One finger slid in and out his ass while the other hand milked his cock, squeezing it. Bane used leaking precome to slick himself again and reinserted two fingers slowly, flexing his joints, pumping John’s cock all along.

John couldn’t keep his hips still. He rocked back and forth, not knowing what drove him crazier, if it was the skilled hand over his cock or the probing fingers up his ass. When Bane nudged him somewhere behind his balls, John groaned in a way he’d be ashamed of later.

Bane’s attack on his prostate was ruthless, and his thumb rubbed the underside of his prick every time he stroked up and down. John gasped and panted as Bane’s touch tried to rip the orgasm out of him.

“You want to come?” Bane asked.

“Yeah,” John whispered.

“Are you going to?” he inquired, in time with a thrust of his fingers.

“Yeah, fuck,” John cried out.

“Then don’t,” Bane commanded, sliding his fingers out of his hole. He wormed himself up, straddling John’s neck and shoulders, making it hard to breathe. “After I had my fill of you, after I filled your ass with my seed, then you have my permission to come.”

John grunted. It was going to be difficult to hold back.

Bane put his cock next to John’s mouth, who engulfed it readily. He didn’t care much for sucking, he just smeared it with saliva, spitting on it, trying to cover it as best as he could.

Bane seemed satisfied and withdrew, assuming his earlier position between John’s thighs.

John held his breath again. He had never been fucked bare. He didn’t know if the lack of condom would increase or minimize the pain of his ravishing, but there was something astonishingly erotic in the prospect of having someone’s semen poured directly into him. John forced his lungs to cooperate and breathe properly again, so he could relax.

No relaxing could have prepared him for the blunt pressure on his hole. It was almost too much to handle. He tried to focus on Bane’s stomach scraping against his glans. Bane was taking it easy, but going on continuously. But the pain was searing, and John was about to say he couldn’t take it anymore when he felt Bane’s thighs touching his. He was all the way in. Bane withdrew and pushed back in carefully. When he brushed over his prostate, a disconnected moan broke free from John’s throat. No one had ever found it so easily before.

John pushed back against him, barely believing Bane was actually buried to the hilt within him. The slow pressure in his ass was exhilarating. It was unintentional, but he set a pace with Bane; every time John felt him draw back, he slammed himself against Bane, creating some kind of sensuous dance.

It didn’t hurt nearly as much anymore. It felt more like a slow burn. He held Bane closer by the nape of his neck and spat in his other palm, rubbing saliva where their bodies were joined. It eased the penetration a bit, but once he grew used to the stretch in his ass, all he felt was the massage over his prostate.

“Faster,” he pleaded before he could stop himself.

Bane doubled the speed and strength of his movements, eyefucking John with such concentration he thought Bane was reading his mind. And if he was, all he’d be able to comprehend was _Fuck_ , _There_ , _Oh god don’t stop_ , _Fill me_ and _Bane Bane Bane oh god Bane_.

Their sounds were so arousing; their grunts and moans, the slaps of Bane’s flesh against his skin and Bane’s ragged breathing. The building up in his belly towards orgasm made John acutely aware of both of them. He noticed the quivering in Bane’s arms as he propped up his weight, his own balls tensing up as he got closer and closer to coming, how his precum pooled on his belly and was smeared over both of their stomachs.

He was so absorbed by every little sensation around him that Bane’s first spurt inside his ass felt like fire. Bane howled above him, throwing his head back, slamming for all he was worth, as he erupted again and again inside John’s abused asshole. When he pulled out, panting and sweat dripping from all his body, the sensations overwhelmed John; the sudden loss of thickness inside his ass, the spunk gushing out, the soft and last scrap of Bane’s belly against the head of his prick. He came, almost untouched, cock throbbing, spurting over his stomach and chest, balls tight, eyes closed, wind lost.

He spent a little while lying there, trying to regain his sense of self, legs spread wantonly. When he finally opened his eyes, Bane was nowhere to be seen. His heart fell.


	3. Chapter 3

_In all my life I never thought I'd see_  
 _A face that could launch a thousand ships_  
\- Anger Management, Lovage

Some improvements were made in his accommodation. There was not much one could do for luxury down the sewers, but now he was given sheets which were regularly changed. There was plenty of water to drink and Barsad, John believed that was his name, escorted him to the bathroom twice a day. He was given food on a regular basis, without excess, but always enough to appease his hunger. He still wasn’t allowed to leave, or see daylight, but now there was a really small TV so he could get in touch with the outside world.

He had been there for days and Bane never officially stated his purpose in keeping him. The man showed up two, sometimes three times a day, and John learned to crave his visits. They’d fuck, they always fucked. Bane ravished him in all sorts of ways, leaving him bruised, out of breath, smeary with come, his own and Bane’s.

They fucked all on fours, John pushing himself against Bane’s cock until his arms and legs gave up and he was smashed between the mattress and Bane’s solid form. He’d come that way, soiling his sheets, his ass filled. Other times Bane would make John straddle him, stretching his opening as John engulfed the huge erection with his ass. When his thighs couldn’t take rising up and going down anymore, Bane would hold him up and smack him from underneath with the movements of his hips. John wouldn’t admit it, but every time he came like this, spilling his seed all over Bane’s chest, he felt as if they were the same, like they were just a couple making love.

When Bane pulled John’s legs over his shoulder, raising them high, it wasn’t John’s favorite position, but he obliged, because it felt like surrender. And John reveled in surrendering to Bane, because it hurt so good, being taken and abused like that. Bane’s abuse never felt purely like mistreatment. It was like being taught, being educated and molded into something greater.

On the occasions when they were apart longer than usual, John would fidget until he arrived and then welcome him by popping open his buttons and taking out his prick, savoring the flesh, blowing him until come filled his mouth and dripped through the corners of his lips before he was able to swallow.

His heart thundered every time he elicited a groan out of Bane.

It wasn’t all sex though. They talked a lot. In the beginning, Bane spoke and John paid attention, impressed with his eloquence, his figure, his words and his control. Slowly, though, he began participating, sometimes with sardonic comments, but always paying attention. Bane talked about storms that would wash the immorality out of this world and John couldn’t doubt it. In fact, John was bizarrely proud that he was beside a man with so much power in his hands he was capable of shaking the world’s very foundation. But they also talked about books, and movies, and sometimes their childhood. It was rare and dark when Bane mentioned his earlier years, so John was always quiet and attentive. Yet he soon learned Bane felt less reluctant to talk about it when John was the one first sharing his experiences. A month later, Bane knew more about John’s life than anyone else.

One day, he turned on his TV and watched startling news. There was a hostage situation at the stock market. He wasn’t surprised in the least when he saw Bane appear on the images. There was no one capable of pulling a stunt like that and getting away with it. John had never seen him fight before. He was so skilled, so fast, and strong, always relying on the power of his own fists, never hiding behind the menace of a gun. That was what Bane was made of: muscles, strategy, intimidation, leadership and intellect.

Days after that, the TV News announced a business man found dead inside a dumpster with a broken neck. Roland Daggett. Of course it had been Bane. John felt proud, avenged. He wasn’t naïve, he knew it had nothing to do with him, that Bane’s agenda was bigger than anyone could ever predict, but Bane had evened the scores. Some small part in his brain told him he wasn’t supposed to feel good about people being killed, but he shut that part.

John was also aware of Batman’s comeback. In a different time, when he was a kid, he cherished Batman, worshipped him. But now “the Batman” paled in comparison to Bane, because his mentor was always one step ahead, always faster, always more clever. It didn’t matter that John didn’t know the entirety of Bane’s intentions, because he inspired trust. John relished Bane’s success.

The dissolution of Batman’s grand image was still incomplete. It would only come to fulfillment a couple nights later, when Batman was lured into Bane’s lair.

Batman was already at the main room when John got there. Barsad was the one who took care of his needs when Bane wasn’t around, so he found it odd when a man he identified as Durden walked into his cell and urged him, “Bane has something he wants you to see.”

As they approached the main room, John saw all men of Bane’s inner circle positioned in different spots and levels observing intently the show. Bane and Batman’s duel.

“Victory has cost you strength. Victory has defeated you,” Bane uttered.

Batman beat him, throwing jabs and punches, giving all he was worth, but Bane didn’t even seem to feel it. When he reacted, he threw Batman over the railing onto the bottom floor. Bane gave Batman no time and pursued him, lowering himself through the hanging chain, great arms carrying all his weight.

Batman tried to move against Bane once again, made his effort and it seemed just that, a huge vain effort. He looked tired, he staggered. Bane, on the other hand, seemed prepared, daring. Lying on the floor, Batman threw him something that burst minor explosions of smoke. Bane didn’t even flinch.

“Theatricality and deception. Powerful agents for the uninitiated. But we are initiated, aren’t we, Bruce?”

It was obvious how much Batman underestimated Bane. Bane lifted him by the neck, and he looked like a helpless little toy at Bane’s mercy.

“Members of the League of Shadows. But you betrayed us.”

“You were excommunicated,” Batman replied, his voice broken by Bane’s large hand crushing his throat, “by a gang of psychopaths.”

Bane let go of his neck and cracked his ribs with hooked punches. Batman fell several feet away from him.

“I am the League of Shadows. I am here to fulfill Ra’s Al Ghul’s destiny.”

Batman made another assault. Every time he hit Bane, it was like Bane was giving Batman a head start, just so everyone could see how much greater Bane was when he got back at Batman.

“You fight like a younger man, with nothing held back. Admirable, but mistaken.”

Batman cut the lights with one of his devices. It had a bitter taste of desperation.

“Oh, you think darkness is your ally.” Bane’s voice sounded richer than ever, like he was telling a joke everyone was dying to know how it ended. “But you merely adopted darkness. I was born in it. Molded by it. I didn’t see the light until I was already a man. By then it was nothing to me but blinding.” He punctuated his last word by hitting Batman viciously.

The lights came back.

“The shadows betray you because they belong to me.” He proceeded to punch Batman so brutishly he’d have dented the other man’s skull if it wasn’t for the mask.

“I will show you where I have made my home, while preparing to bring justice. And I will break you.” There was no room for doubts.

Bane pushed the button of a detonator in his hand. The explosion on the roof above their heads sent waves of dust into John’s eyes and he blinked. A mighty war tank fell from the hole, right into their nest. They were below somewhere great war gears were stored.

“Your precious armory, gratefully accepted. We will need it.”

Batman attempted to get on his feet again. An elder would have had more vigor in his legs.

“Ah, yes. I was wondering what would break first. Your spirit,” Bane lifted Batman over his head, all the muscles in his body coming alive, “or your body.” And dropped him over his bent knee.

John felt nervous exhilaration rushing all over him. That nearly quiet part of his mind came back to tell him he should feel appalled, horrified by all he had seen. However, all that consumed him was awe as he realized the magnitude of Bane’s power. Bane was power; power that shared a bed with him. John’s conscience was silenced again.

***

That was the last night John spent in the sewers. Bane’s minions climbed the hole burst open by the explosion to secure their new warfare tools. John went too, clinging to Bane’s back as they ascended.

They settled inside a large office, with a couch bigger and more comfortable than most beds. Bane threw him over it as soon as they closed the door. He ground into John, his cock so big and hard John thought it would pop his buttons open at any minute.

His hands weren’t all that commanding this time. They roamed aggressively over his body, as if Bane wanted to touch him everywhere at the same time and couldn’t hold himself back. The knuckles on his fingers ran over his face and torso, surely leaving bruises. When Bane pinched one of his nipples a bit too hard, John gasped loudly, the feeling not quite leaving the nub even after Bane’s fingers were gone.

John buried his nose in the curve of Bane’s neck, just where it met his shoulder, drowning in the male scent that he exhuded, wanting to taste his sweat.

But then Bane let go of him and stood, taking off his clothes as if it were an epiphany – really, why stay clothed around each other? Vest, belt, boots, and pants, all off with quick feverish motions. John’s own pants were almost ripped from him.

John would never get used to, would never grow bored of feeling Bane’s warm flesh between his legs, the pubic hair scratching him. Bane was warm all over, but his cock was hotter than anywhere else in his body. It was as consunming as dipping into hot water; there wasn’t anywhere he couldn’t feel Bane.

Bane’s eyes burnt his desire so fiercely, John’s legs would have gone soft if he was standing up. Bane wasn’t to be trifled with. In a second he flipped John over, hands over the globes of his butt, pulling them apart as John held onto the back of the couch, trying to stay all on fours.

Soon he felt Bane’s cock, slick now, breeching him, entering him slowly but without pause. It was only when he was rooted to the balls, John realized Bane wasn’t going to take it easy. Bane never did, but this time was brutal.

Bane’s large hands took John’s thighs and pulled them up and against his hips, taking his knees off the couch, so his hands and the firm grip Bane had on his legs were the only things holding him up. John’s position was the definition of being subjected by someone.

The thrusting was vicious. Bane pounded him like a machine, never growing tired or breaking his pace. John gritted his teeth, and then he wailed, and grunted then gritted his teeth again. It hurt, but all that taking… John adored the way Bane took him and let nothing unscathed. Bane must know John liked being overpowered like that; there was a sort of silent communication between them, which told Bane the exact moment when and where to touch John to melt his nerve endings.

He made John wait for it, nearly beg for it, tormenting his prostate, all the skin to skin smacking sound so obscene to John’s ears.

Bane switched positions easily, never pulling his cock out, with such fluid motions that always got John surprised at how such a large man could be so smooth and agile when he wanted to. Bane was now sitting up, John was straddling him while Bane propelled him up and down, one hand on his thigh, urging him, while the other pumped his cock, pinching and squeezing the head every now and then, thumb gliding by the underside of it.

After their first time, John never lasted longer than Bane. He always broke first, soiling himself with his come, sometimes Bane too, just like he was doing now. And then he’d be open and dizzy in his post-orgasmic bliss as Bane fucked him until he emptied himself inside John, coating his insides with come.

Bane came, but didn’t pull out. He was hard for minutes before John felt him going soft inside his ass. Bane finally pulled out and they stayed like that for a while, John straddling him and resting his head over Bane’s shoulder. Bane breathed heavily under him. It was peaceful.

John fell asleep at some point, and when he woke up, a blanket over his naked body, Bane was nowhere to be seen.

***

John saw no sign of Bane for two entire weeks. Since no one told him to move or designated another place for him, John stayed at the office. It had a bathroom with running water, and taking a shower in a clean well-decorated bathroom instead of a sewer felt heavenly.

John learnt that Bane had gone somewhere taking his most trusted fellows. So John wasn’t one of his trusted fellows. Or maybe Bane had gone somewhere to do something he didn’t want John to see. He noticed Batman wasn’t there either. So Bane had taken Batman with him.

He wasn’t being watched by any of Bane’s minions. He could easily escape if he tried to. Now that he wasn’t being guarded, John wondered if that meant Bane had no interest in keeping him anymore. At the dawn of the fifteenth day, John feared that Bane wouldn’t come back.

But he did. When Bane opened the office door and laid eyes on him, John’s heart felt like it was stuck in his throat. Bane looked sweaty and dusty. John didn’t fight the wide smile that took his lips. Before he could be stopped, he threw his arms around Bane’s large torso. Bane didn’t repel him. It was the first time they hugged just for the sake of hugging.

Bane touched foreheads with him, gazes locked, his large hands holding John’s face by his cheeks. It was more intimate than any kisses John had ever shared.

They never undressed as slowly and carefully as they did now. They took each other’s clothes slowly, one piece at a time. Every bit of flesh Bane revealed received John’s attention. He touched his arms, planted dutiful kisses on his shoulder blades, and buried his nose in Bane’s sternum, always paying attention to his reaction.

Bane’s moves weren’t feeble; John doubted he was capable of being completely delicate, but there was care in his hands. There was something different sparkling in his eyes. Bane’s eyes betrayed something akin to joy.

When they were naked, Bane towered John, hard cock nuzzling his belly. John attempted to go down on him, wanting to swallow him whole just to show him how much he… what? Desired him? Admired him? Loved him?

They ended up lying sideways over the fluffy carpet, Bane spooning him. John loved the feel of Bane’s thick thighs behind his own. Soon he felt the known pressure in his ass. He welcomed it, welcomed Bane inside him. It slid in easily, even though Bane always stretched him to the limit.

“I have missed this.” It was the first time Bane spoke after he came back. His distant metallic voice sounded like home.

John had missed it too. He had missed the guarded way Bane panted while fucking him, the way their hips danced together, the way they sweated together, missed Bane’s streak of come pouring down his ass when they were done.

“Don’t leave me,” John whispered before he made up his mind.

“Won’t,” Bane whispered back.

Bane held him by the waist to aim his thrust better. John put one hand over his as he pushed back with the same rhythm. After all their previous fucking, John knew the exact way to sway his hips to drag the orgasm out of Bane. He learnt the way Bane’s belly quivered, the way his thighs trembled almost imperceptibly when he was about to come.

The first gush made John’s inner walls wet and caused his balls to tighten up. The following spurts of Bane’s cock inside him sent him coming all over the gray carpet. The tidal wave of his orgasm had just finished hitting him, and John already wanted to fuck Bane again.

They didn’t though. Not for the next hour at least. Bane lay over his back and allowed John to lay his head over his chest, calloused fingers resting over his hair.

“I didn’t know if you’d be here,” Bane admitted.

John kissed Bane’s palm in a way he hoped said he wouldn’t leave. John remembered his previous thought. The idea of loving Bane.

John had every possible reason for hating the man. Weeks ago, he’d say Bane had robbed him of his freedom, had sexually abused him, had kept him in a small cell, made him pay heed to all of his crappy speech. Now, he understood Bane had given him his true freedom, had set his spirit free, and the instruments had been Bane’s body and words. John was grateful.

And he’d be at Bane’s side for as long as he was allowed to.

They fucked again and eventually John fell asleep. Bane was still by his side when he woke up.

***

Months passed.

John became more aware of Bane’s intentions as the time went by.

Bane didn’t take John with him when he went to Wayne’s Enterprises to kidnap the board members. However, when it was time to show the bomb to the world, Bane took him, and gave him a special position next to him and Barsad.

John felt strangely unmoved by the explosions all over the city, the scared cries of Gotham’s citizens and the killing of Dr. Pavel—of all people who had been killed that day, his death had been the most merciful. The only emotion that reverberated through his body and soul was the power Bane wielded so skillfully. They had the world at their feet. John’s latent anger was finally being sated.

His learning of the intricate plan to fulfill Ra’s Al Ghul’s destiny was slow but complete. The purpose of restoring balance to where the environment was affected by human corruption became more and more clear. Talia—he had learnt of Talia too—trusted him as much as she trusted Barsad. He felt grateful for having been rescued from his previous ignorance and for being given the opportunity to do something great with his life.

However, an idea consumed him as days went by.

The destruction of Gotham City was bound to shatter western civilization as the world knew it. It had been four months since the city was overruled. The bomb would go off in a matter of days. Bane’s inner circle, John included, was well aware of the frail attempts of resistance around the city, courtesy of Talia’s work infiltrating as Miranda Tate.

Bane had every intention of being in Gotham when the bomb exploded to secure Talia’s sake. John had the worst feeling about it. Bane shouldn’t be there. Hell, Talia shouldn’t be there, Barsad shouldn’t be there. Why wait? Why wait leisurely for the bomb to go off when they could simply detonate it from a safe distance and spread the glory of the League of Shadows all over the nations? Ra’s Al Ghul’s destiny was about equilibrium, not purposeless suicides. The Batman was still imprisoned inside the Pit, but for how long? They shouldn't commit the mistake of underestimating the man and his despair.

That was what he told them, anyway. That was what he told himself, what he tried so hard to believe. Deep down his heart was the truth he wanted to bury. Bane. He wasn’t risking being apart. John felt soulless, meaningless before meeting him. He wasn’t giving that away. Not now, not ever.

When he saw the explosion detonated by Talia cut the morning sky, John felt waves of heat, but his heart felt cold as he was directly responsible for each one of those deaths.

Only when Bane’s hand rest possessively over his shoulder, as they fled the city after clearing one of the tunnels, John realized he would kill them all over again, and more if he had to, if it meant being with his lover, being with Bane.


End file.
